As Time Fades Away
by silver-doe287
Summary: Post season 4 one-shot. Leaving Chloe was the hardest thing he ever did. Now Lucifer is back in Hell for good, where he's alone with his thoughts and fighting to keep his memories of their last moments together.


_Time will heal._

_So they say._

_So I watch the clock_

_as time fades away._

\- Time Fades, Kathy Hood

* * *

Lucifer didn't sleep in Hell.

There was no need to sleep here, nor was there an ability to reach such a state. The heat of ash as it danced against his face; the miniscule but noticeable effort he took to will the smoldering specks to leave his suit - a sole physical reminder of his years above - alone and intact; the whisper of screams from the stillness of the air; all filling his senses and clouding what he desperately fought to remember. How long had it been? It felt like hundreds of years, eons ago that he had settled once more upon this throne. Had it been a lifetime up above? Had it been five minutes?

Dreaming was impossible here. Even thinking he could close his eyes, take flight and picture the world, the people, the _face_ that he longed to see fought to become less than a memory. In the forefront of his mind, a repetition of a list was his only solace to keep his thoughts from losing her.

_Blonde hair, framing her face. Tear-stricken, red-rimmed eyes, shining brightly. Lips open, whispering that she loved him._

She had said she loved him. She had said it and she had meant it. It was easy, looking back, for Lucifer to make himself falsely believe that she had just been trying to keep him there. It would have made sense, after all: the partnership they had built over the course of the past few years had been successful. It had been _safe_. Even a few months prior, he would have thought she had been desperate to continue to have his help and would have responded accordingly. He could remember the focus he had to insert himself as the best part of the partnership equation. But despite all of that, when she had said those words, the wave of pure shock, awe, and understanding that had washed over his skin, crept up his face and his very nerve endings in a warm disbelief – that did not lie.

Yes, she had said she loved him. He had felt something in his stomach, a raw, gnawing feeling that had taken up residence since he had realized his doomed fate, conform into something warm and glowing. This feeling had radiated out of him as he had comprehended her words. He remembered feeling his eyes begin to betray him, but not in the way he was used to; this wasn't from a douse of anger and determination to punish, this was warmth and it stung as he stared at her. He couldn't picture this fully anymore, and nor could he dredge up this incredible feeling again. But he could remember how that had made him feel.

Being in hell was affecting his emotions. There was something about this place, he always knew, that had a way of distorting memories and helping the souls down below to reach a state in which they would be punished the best. This time, he could feel it creeping into his mind, his heart, and his very soul - a concern he had never needed to consider before. But now, this was _his_ memories, _his_ mind, and as the king of Hell, Lucifer had thought there could be an exception for him.

Perhaps it was for the best? Perhaps torturing himself over those last few moments on earth would serve only to harm himself, and it was better to focus on the job he had to do here instead?

_Blonde hair, framing her face. Tear-stricken, red-rimmed eyes, shining brightly. Lips open, whispering that she loved him._

The throne he sat in, towering high above the endless expanse of dark Hell below, was hot. The stone, smooth and black, radiated an oppressive heat through his suit and into his very bones. The air down here was thick, smokey, and tasted of despair. He adjusted himself, crossing his legs to take on a carefree ruler-like stance. He needed to look strong and unchanged. Still, he continued the inward battle, clinging to the memories that threatened to leave his mind. He gave subtle glances around him, eyeing the gray blanket of clouds that shrouded his home. No more brilliant, colorful sunsets for him. The absence of color here was striking and dull. No breeze caressed his skin to cool him from the heat of this place. He thought he could remember what it was like to feel a salty, beachfront ocean breeze cool his skin from the scorching Los Angeles summer heat. Well, that heat hadn't been scorching after all. Compared to this, LA had been temperate.

_Blonde hair, framing her face. Tear-stricken, red-rimmed eyes, shining brightly. Lips open, whispering that she loved him._

In the back of his mind now, he kept that list going, trying to remember her face and the scene that had played out before him. Remembering the way he had held her cheek, stroking tears away as he said her name. Trying to remember that last kiss they had shared on the penthouse balcony before he sealed his fate...

"Chloe…" He breathed, ever-so-softly, so as not to forget. Her name upon his lips felt natural, and he now wondered why he had never used it much. The role of partner had been easy to play, and the word "detective" had constantly slid from him in a humorous effort to annoy her. Lucifer wondered now whether that humor had been the right way to go about it. Her name was beautiful. It sat on the edge of his tongue with his lips parted, still forming the "e," and he thought, for a moment, that he could sense her again. Her presence had been comforting and familiar. Breath hitching in his throat, Lucifer looked around quickly before settling once again. He could see his memories were all that remained of this feeling.

He exhaled sharply, half in anger and half in despair. Here he would remain, struggling with his memories and knowing that she would never join him. Chloe, for certain, would never grace the heat of Hell, there was too much _good_ about her.

The air was thick down here, yes. The throne was uncomfortable and too warm. His memories swam in his mind, struggling to break free and leave him. How he wished he could close his eyes and drift off, dreaming of the person who had taught him how to live. How he wished he could stop time from fading away.


End file.
